When I Ruled the World
by Chana Goldberg
Summary: Kirk reflects on events in his recent past and troubles in his present as he adjusts to being the new captain of the Enterprise. Based on the recent Star Trek 2009 and set after it ends. Crosses over with Star Trek TOS. Rated M for language.
1. Prologue

When I Ruled the World

By Chana Goldberg

Something's wrong.

I sit at my desk in my Ready Room and I see a burnt light above me. Thousands of lights on this ship and as far as I know, this is the only one that's broken. I should ask someone to fix it, but it's the least of my problems.

It's been six months since I became captain, six months since I stopped being a cadet at the Academy, when all I had to worry about was getting to class on time, finishing my assignments, and finding my next date for the weekend. That time is a distant memory.

My sponsor to the Academy, Captain Pike, now Admiral, challenged me to complete Starfleet training and become a captain myself in four years. I told him I would do it in three.

**********

The nightmares started the day I arrived on board the Enterprise as its new captain. It's the same one every night. I wake up scared, sweaty, and breathless, and my stomach hurts. I run to the bathroom and puke my guts out. Sometimes it comes up bloody, sometimes not.

I don't return to bed to sleep. I know I'll have that dream again, and I don't want that. Instead, I sit on the bathroom floor in the dark, and lean against the wall to cool my skin. I close my eyes and relax, and I feel the rhythm of the engines, the computers, the machinery, a pulse that flows through my bones, my veins, right to my heart. I can hear all the sounds of the ship as if they were meant for me only. I doze like that through the rest of the night until the alarm goes off, and I have to wake up and go back to the grind. I haven't slept soundly through the night in weeks.

**********

I cheated. I reprogrammed the parameters of the Kobayashi Maru test because I was frustrated. There was no way to win it, and I don't believe in the no-win scenario. There's always a way out.

It's a stupid test. No matter what actions you take, it always responds the same way. And that's where it's flawed.

Spock told me that its purpose is to teach fear, but that's bullshit. Why should I be afraid of a simulation?

**********

Being captain is not what I expected. There's nothing glamorous about it. Most of the work is bureaucratic management. All I do is fill out reports, sign forms, approve requisitions, give orders, field complaints, etc… Don't misunderstand. I can do the job. It's just that there are other issues.

I have less freedom than I had before. I'm stuck between my crew who look up to me for guidance and the admirals of Starfleet Command who expect me to take their orders without question. Is this what I really want? I'm not sure anymore. I think what I really want is to belong somewhere.

**********

_I stand on the edge of her saucer section, staring into the darkness. Space stretches out before me, limitless. If I fall, would I drift away forever into nothingness? Or would the stars catch me?_

_I turn and gaze across her breadth. She gleams in the light of the distant sun, warm and alive as Earth rises behind her nacelles. I feel humbled in her presence, dwarfed by her size and might._

_Directly ahead lays the dome that houses the bridge. I can't see inside of her; the transparent view screen is dark, but I know instinctively that she can see through me, beyond me, into my soul._

_**********_

Spock hauled me before the academic review board to formally accuse me of cheating. He knew someone altered the program because he had the new code as proof, but he couldn't trace it back to me. I made sure I didn't leave any tracks when I hacked into the system. What evidence he has is circumstantial.

He was angry because he believed I broke his test, but I prefer to think I fixed it.

Real life can't be programmed.

**********

The Enterprise was shot to hell during the battle with Nero and needs several months of repair in dry dock. The crewmembers have gone their separate ways for now. In the meantime, I get to take mandatory advanced officer training courses at the Academy, five in all, one for each rank I skipped. No relaxation for me.

What makes it worse is that the other captains clearly resent me for my rapid rise. They give me the cold shoulder because they paid their dues and worked their way up. Before turning their backs on me, though, they made sure to inform me that I got my captaincy not as a reward for saving the planet and a job well done, but as a PR stunt by Starfleet Command to distract the public from a mission gone wrong.

I don't think I'll be welcome at the Officer's Club.

**********

Stress levels among the crew are rising, including mine. Because the fleet is down by six ships, we've been ordered on extra patrols with very little time off. The last two requests for shore leave have been denied. My formal written complaints have been ignored, and when I go directly to the admirals, they essentially tell me to shut up and do as I'm told.

When we returned from where Vulcan used to be, it was recommended to us during our debriefings that we attend counseling sessions to discuss anything that bothered us. I went once. They asked me some questions. I told them I felt fine, and I did then. I don't feel fine now.

I read the personnel files of all my crewmembers. They all passed their psych evaluations and were cleared for redeployment with no issues flagged. It's been several months since we've seen each other and the camaraderie that we once shared has faded. Nobody wants to talk about what happened.

McCoy and I don't hang out as much as we used to because we're both too busy. He's the Chief Medical Officer now and has an entire department to run. I miss his company. We had a lot of fun together back at school.

Scott spends all his time with his engineers and only surfaces to attend senior command meetings or when he needs to fix something.

Uhura is professional and cool at all times. She and I used to compete for the number one class ranking every term, but then, we were equals. Not anymore.

Sulu avoids eye contact with me when we're off duty. A near-death experience isn't something he wants to remember, I'm sure.

Chekov seems outwardly cheerful, but when I look into his red-rimmed eyes, I see a sadness that wasn't there before. He's only 17. What kind of coping mechanisms could he possibly have? Even bigger question: What's he doing here in the first place?

And then there's him.

**********

Our shuttle glides through the thermosphere towards Space Dock orbiting Earth. McCoy sits next to me reading a medical journal online while I watch the Enterprise come into view as the shuttle banks. I see it clearly for the first time, cold and gray, anchored to its mooring.

The last time I made this journey, I was drugged by the viruses McCoy was shooting into me in order to sneak me onboard. My vision was hazy, but I could still tell how breathtaking it was.

Now, I'm ecstatic that it's my ship to command. Or, I think I should be. Underneath, I'm uneasy.

Out of seven ships deployed to Vulcan, only the Enterprise, only we returned. Six ships destroyed along with all hands on board. Three thousand Starfleet officers and crew dead. Six billion Vulcans dead. Can it really be called a victory when the price was so high?

A lot of time has passed since that day and the euphoria of success has long since worn off. I look now at the medal I was awarded and I wonder, why me? Why did we survive and no one else?

**********

_Entranced, I walk forward, my steps making no sound. Silence rules. My body should be frozen, but I feel no cold. There should be no air, yet I breathe with ease. I feel honored to be in the presence of her majesty and beauty._

_Suddenly, I stop at the black letters and numbers painted across her hull. There is a line here that I cannot bring myself to cross. She wants something from me that I cannot bring myself to give. Not yet. I'm not ready. Overwhelmed by her power, I shake my head and turn back._

_For the first time in my life that I can remember, I am afraid._

_**********_

My promotion ceremony was the high point of my life. Everyone at the Academy gathered to watch me receive the recognition I deserved. The crowd cheered when Admiral Pike transferred command of the Enterprise to me. I have never felt so good about myself before or since.

Starfleet also awarded me with one of its highest honors for my bravery and leadership. It was the culmination of all my hard work and a big fuck you to anyone who ever gave me shit for doing things my way.

Afterwards, McCoy and I head to the bar to celebrate. He pulls me aside while we're buying drinks and tells me he's concerned about my new position. He says it's unheard of for a cadet to skip five ranks and be given command of a starship.

I smile and tell him to relax. Why does he always have to be so cynical? I wish he'd just let me have my moment.

**********

I conduct my first inspection soon after arriving onboard only to find out the ship hasn't been completely repaired. Mr. Scott assures me that all of the major structural damage has been fixed, but the overall job was rushed. Minor glitches are cropping up all over the place. Annoyances mostly, but he's throwing a fit over it.

Starfleet Command has informed me that, due to budget concerns, replacing the ships destroyed at Vulcan takes precedence, and remaining time and money will be diverted to those projects. No more will be spent on the Enterprise at this time. Whatever small troubles arise, we'll have to fix ourselves. The Supervisor of the Ship Repair Facility fully inspected it, signed off on it, and declared it space-worthy, and we've been ordered out of port.

This situation is giving me a headache.

**********

Spock is the only member of the command crew with prior combat experience, yet he's not handling things as well as he wants everyone to believe. He tries to maintain that perfect Vulcan self-control, but occasionally, cracks show. I can see them because I know what to look for now.

I didn't enjoy breaking him down. He was making the wrong decisions and had to be removed from command. I said what I had to say to make him lose his perfect self-control. It worked. Too well. I took the full force of his anger and pain, ripped open his wounds for all to see, and I paid for it when he beat the shit out of me. I don't believe he can forgive me for that.

He's polite to me now, courteous, but it's because I'm his commanding officer. Everyone else seems to think it should be the other way around. He's a ranking Commander, after all. He should've been next in line. How does he feel about it?

I don't ask. And yet, if the insistence of Spock's future self that I become the Enterprise's captain is any indication, I think he might be okay with it. I'm glad he requested to stay on as First Officer. I need his help and expertise. I don't want to jeopardize any friendship that might develop between us.

Honestly, I have reservations about him. One decision he made in another future allowed Nero to return to our past and kill my father and destroy his entire world. Is it fair to blame him for something he hasn't done yet and now may never do?

I don't know. We managed to put aside our differences, to stand together to defeat Nero in the end. We've both suffered greatly, but our sorrows aren't the same.

*********

All of these thoughts and questions race through my mind, day in and day out. Do I tell anyone?

Of course not.

I can't reveal the truth. If I do, if I show weakness, then I lose my crew's faith in me, and it all falls apart. Then where would I go?

When I stepped off the gangway from Space Dock, passed through the main hatch, and assumed command, everything changed. I'm now responsible for the wellbeing of others besides myself – 500 souls aboard a ship that haunts my dreams each night.

The Enterprise. I felt many things when I was named its captain: elation, pride, high. But the one thing I never expected to feel was uncomfortable.

So here I am, the youngest starship captain in Starfleet history. I have a broken light in my office, a splitting headache, the beginning of a stomach ulcer, and I believe we all have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder to varying degrees. Only one question remains….

Now what?


	2. Chapter 1 Last Night on Earth

Chapter One

When I Ruled the World

Chapter One: Last Night on Earth

By Chana Goldberg

Note: This is a revised Chapter 1 that replaces the previous chapter. Since I've decided to expand the flash fiction version I published about a year ago, consider it to be the prologue now. Notes for this chapter will be published at the blog address in my profile over the weekend. Enjoy!

Packing for a journey can be a difficult task when your traveling accommodations are the size of a box. I'm commanding the USS Enterprise on a six-month shakedown cruise, and while it's a large ship, the captain's quarters are small. A glorified closet is a better description. I can take only the barest necessities with me, but at least I get a room to myself. The junior officers have to share quarters, and the enlisted crew get racks.

Placing my duffel on the bed, I activate the hypersurface screen behind me to turn up the volume on the music tuner and start choosing clothes. Nothing fancy, as I'm a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, and I like to travel light. Carrying more belongings than necessary is a burden that inhibits my freedom to get up and go whenever I want.

The music, an up-tempo electronica song, energizes me. Letting the rhythm sweep over me, I toss balls of socks over my shoulder onto the bed while dancing to the beat. The pounding drum line grows more intense until I realize it's actually someone knocking at the front door to my condo. The h-screen changes from a gentle blue default image to a video shot of my best friend and the Enterprise's new Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy, standing outside.

"Hey, Bones, come on in." I open the door, calling him by the nickname I gave him several years ago when we joined the service together.

"Do you know how long I've been out here knocking?" he growls, following me back to the bedroom where I resume packing.

"Sorry, I didn't hear it," I reply sheepishly, switching off the tuner.

"Yeah, I heard the music loud and clear through the door," he complains, sitting on the corner of the bed. "I didn't know if you might be sick or dying. I was about ready to let myself in with the spare key you gave me when you didn't answer." He kicks a sock ball around on the floor before picking it up and dropping it onto the covers.

"I'm so glad you worry about me. It warms my heart." I grin at him, mockingly placing my hand over my chest.

"Yeah, well, I'm your doctor as well as your friend. I'm supposed to." His annoyance fading, he shifts his position to face me.

"So, how did your date with that blonde lab technician go? What was her name again?" he asks.

"Janice Lester, and it didn't go. I turned her down."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "Maybe it's because I prefer redheads."

"You need to expand your horizons," he remarks, the annoyance clearly returning.

"You still need my help?" I abruptly change the subject, stuffing the last of my clothing into the bag.

"Yeah, you ready to go?" He gestures to the door.

"Yeah. Where do you want to go first?" I inquire, locking the condo door behind us as we leave.

"Farmers' Market. I want to make sure my fresh food is on the last delivery shuttle to Spacedock. I don't like those onboard food replicators."

I chuckle and he gives me a dirty look. "I agree. Real food tastes better," I say soothingly.

Believe it or not, Bones is an excellent cook and he is not happy unless he can eat his Georgia home cooking. I've sampled his fare, and it is delicious.

I swing my keys as we step onto the elevator. "Bike, or walk?" I tease him with an evil grin.

"Walk! I'm not getting on that motorcycle of yours. It's a death machine." He shudders with horror.

I burst out laughing. It's fun to push his buttons.

We stroll the few blocks to the Berkeley Farmers' Market at the Ecology Center. McCoy pulls up a list on his communicator while I help myself to the free samples. Muttering to himself, he heads towards produce and peruses the vegetables. I pick up a crate of apples and dump them in his bag.

"What the devil? What's all this?" he demands, pushing the apples off his tomatoes.

"Snacks. 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away,' you know." I brandish a shiny red one at him.

He stares at me intensely, all the humor gone from his face. "No, it doesn't," he tells me soberly.

In the three years that I've known him, McCoy and I have shared some wild adventures together, from spring break in Tijuana to the recent battle against the Romulan psychopath Nero. But there are times, when he thinks I don't notice, that I've caught him studying me, like I'm a lab rat. This is one of those moments.

"Lighten up," I smile, tapping him on his arm. "What all do you need?"

He shows me the list on the communicator's h-screen. "We're gonna have to go to an indoor market for some of this. Here: peaches, onions, bacon, eggs, grits, rice, pork, chicken, shrimp…."

"And oil to fry it in?" I joke.

"Absolutely! And if I could take a grill with me, I would. Here, hold these." He piles the bag into my arms and resumes scavenging through displays of lettuce.

Afterwards, we drop off his supplies with the Starfleet shipping service in Oakland. One of the perks of being captain is that I can authorize "special requisitions." I sign a few forms, and the clerk approves the food for delivery.

"Where're you headed next?" I ask Bones.

"Home to finish packing. You?"

"The same. First, I need to pick up my order at the bookstore."

"Meet you at the club later." He waves goodbye and disappears into the crowd.

I'm an avid reader: philosophy, science, history, whatever I can get my hands on. Ever since published works were transferred online in the 21st century of the old world calendar, the large printers and publishing houses declined due to a lack of demand, and specialty printing companies replaced them. One such vendor is a small, print-on-demand bookseller I found on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley that caters to collectors like me who prefer to own literary classics in hard copy. Olnitz Fine Books either has what I want in stock, or can acquire it for me.

The scent of freshly printed books tickles my nostrils as I enter the showroom.

"Hey, Mr. Olnitz," I greet the store's proprietor, an older gentleman with graying hair and weathered skin. "How's it going?"

"Fine, Jim," he smiles in return. "I have your order for you."

He places three books on the hypersurface counter and swipes my personal ID card to deduct the payment from my financial account. I hold my hand out for its return, but he gives me a sideways glance, withholding it from my grasp.

"Before you leave, may I recommend another book for you?" he asks.

"Sure," I answer, curious to learn what he's offering.

He retrieves a book from underneath the sales counter.

"Military history. Just published a week ago," he says, riffling through its pages before presenting the cover. Honor, Courage, Commitment: A History of the USS Enterprise from the 1700's to the Present**.**

"I believe you told me that you're the new captain of the Enterprise. Do you know anything about the ship?" he asks.

"Not much yet. I know it's 20 years old and I'm its third commanding officer. I've studied some of its previous missions. Honestly, I haven't had time to find out more than that," I tell him.

"That ship you're in charge of has a long legacy attached to it. You'd be wise to educate yourself on its past." He slides the tome across the counter with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I'll do that." Intrigued, I eagerly take the book he hands me. Picking up the other three, I head home.

The warm afternoon sun shines down on the city from a clear blue sky. I raise my face to soak up as much of it as I can because, after tomorrow, I won't see it for a long while.

As I stroll down the street, the light that was so bright and vivid turns pale. The sounds of a city engaged in lively activity fade. The day's warmth turns chilly, and I start to feel tired, like a rundown clockwork that needs to be rewound.

I stop and stand still for a minute to get my bearings. I've been going through periodic states like this since I was a teenager, but I don't worry about it anymore. I'm used to it. It always passes. The trouble is, I have no control over it.

Glancing up, I notice a man sitting at a table at the outdoor café across the street. His closely shaven head and tight posture imply a military background. He's watching me closely, for what reason I don't know. I've seen him before, but I can't remember where or when.

He sips his drink calmly, unconcerned that I'm aware of his scrutiny. Our gazes lock, and time slows to a crawl. I should do something, cross the street and speak to him… walk the other way… but I can't decide what to do….

Just like that, everything snaps back into place. The light, the noise, time, all return to normal, but not quite to their previous levels. Unnerved and drained, I head home to rest.

My first purchase with my captain's salary and promotional bonuses was a condominium on the fourth floor of a building several centuries old overlooking the Berkeley waterfront. After scouring the Bay area to find the ideal place, the realtor showed me this corner unit facing southwest. I knew it was the right place when I walked through the front door. The spacious living area is divided into smaller areas by shelves and cabinets. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the Bay, the Golden Gate Bridge directly west, downtown San Francisco to the southwest, and Oakland to the south where the windows continue around the corner into the kitchen.

To the right of the door, a hallway leads from the living area to the master bedroom, several smaller bedrooms, and a bathroom. It's curtained off for now as I don't need all that space. Instead, I converted half of the living area into a sleeping area. I had bought the condo for her, hoping she would live with me, perhaps marry me, once I'd gotten my career started. That didn't work out the way I'd planned. I have to get used to living here alone.

Beside the door is a large bookshelf containing the second purchase I made with my newly earned wealth: my own personal library of good, hardbound books. The conservation of natural resources in the years leading up to the present has made paper an expensive commodity, but I consider my collection a worthy investment.

As I add today's acquisitions to the others, I open the cover and read the blurb on the dust jacket of the book on the Enterprise. While there were numerous naval ships and private vessels from around the world carrying that name in the past, it's the American ships that this book focuses on. Curiosity draws me in like a cat, so I settle onto the couch to read it for the afternoon. A few pages in, and I'm already learning things I didn't know.

The first USS Enterprise was a sloop-of-war named George captured from the British in 1775 by Colonel Benedict Arnold during the American War for Independence. Renamed and commissioned into the Continental Navy, it was placed into service on Lake Champlain between New York and Vermont. The ship and its crew served valiantly for two years before it was burned to prevent its capture by the British.

The second American ship with this name also served in the Continental Navy during the same war and was charged with guarding the Chesapeake Bay. Since there was already one USS Enterprise in service at the time, it was not retroactively commissioned by the United States Navy, thus not receiving the US Navy ship prefix.

My muscles start to ache, so I stand up to stretch. The sun hangs over downtown San Francisco, heading towards the western horizon. The rays engulf the whole space of the room, forcing the shadows to climb the opposite wall. Several hours have passed while I was engrossed in the story. I return to my bed to finish packing, tossing the book inside my carry-on bag. It is definitely coming with me.

After eating a delivery pizza and taking a short nap, I change my clothes and get ready for a night at the club. I have every intention of enjoying my last night on Earth.

Grabbing my helmet, I take the elevator down to the garage. Parked there is the third purchase with my bonus money: a Davis NAV 1200 motorcycle, all black and midnight blue, 1225 cc engine with 164 horsepower. Customized by me, of course. Speed and power at my control. My dream bike, the one I've wanted since I first learned to ride as a teenager. I rev the engine and speed out into the night, heading south to Oakland, then west across the Bay Bridge into the City.

It's 10:30pm as I park my bike near Reverie, my favorite nightclub in the Marina District, where I first danced with her. Still too early, but no matter. The ladies will arrive soon enough.

The bouncers know my name and let me bypass the line. Inside, the music is pumping, and the dance floor is already crowded. The odor of sweat fuses with the nicotine-scented wisps threading the air from the cigarettes of illegal smokers. Hypersurface panels cover the walls, translating the musical data stream passing through them into a numinous light show. More h-panels on the floor respond to the stomping feet of the revelers, bathing everyone in colorful radiance and contributing to the altered state of consciousness that we've all come here seeking. I spot McCoy by the bar, and gesture to him to follow me to the upstairs lounge. He prefers country and blues to house music. I think he comes along just to hang out with me, and because I know how to charm the smartest, prettiest women into coming home with us.

We settle in to chairs with our drinks when Val, the club owner, walks over to join us. She's a woman who knows she's attractive, with ebony skin, dark eyes, and straightened hair curled at the ends. I've cultivated a friendship with her since I found this place two years ago. The Starfleet soldiers who frequent Reverie do so because she caters to their need for discretion. The less that Central Command knows about our off-duty activities, the better. She also gleans information about Starfleet's comings and goings from our presence here, and that makes her friendship all the more valuable.

"Hello, gentlemen," she says warmly.

"Hey, Val," I return the greeting.

"Hi," McCoy echoes.

"So, do you like the music tonight?" she smiles slyly.

"Yeah, it's smooth. Who's the DJ?" I inquire.

"You should know. He's one of your new crewmembers."

I get up and slide back the glass partition that insulates the bar from the dance floor below. Straining to see through the crowd and flashing lights, I finally discover that it's my 17-year-old navigator standing on the stage.

"It's Chekov!" I announce.

"What's he doing down there?" McCoy bounces up and pushes me aside.

"A good job!" I laugh.

He looks at me incredulously and shuts the partition. "He's underage! He shouldn't be here at all!"

"True, but the crowd's enjoying it," I point out.

"Oh, and he's mixing the tracks live," Val adds flippantly.

"The individual tracks? No way! I have to see this up close," I exclaim and head downstairs, leaving a bewildered Bones with her.

"Jim, are you gonna let him do this?" he calls after me.

"It's okay, I'll take care of it," I yell back.

Deftly carving a path through the jumble of dancers, I make my way to the stage along the back wall. Chekov stands before the mixing console, headset on, oblivious to everything but the music. He doesn't even notice me standing behind him. His fingers move expertly over the displays, blending percussion, bass, and melody into a sinuous whole. I'm amazed. In the years that I've been going to clubs, I've never come across another DJ who could re-engineer songs on the fly as well as this.

I tap Chekov on the shoulder, and he spins around in surprise. When he registers that it's me, he smiles and removes his headset. He sets the console to play a pre-recorded track, then turns back to me.

"Captain, I did not expect to see you here," he says with concern.

"I didn't expect to see _you_ here. The curfew for Starfleet personnel under 18 is 10 pm," I counter. Both of us struggle to be heard over the music.

"Does Starfleet know about this?" I ask, indicating the setup on the stage.

He drops his head in chagrin and shakes it no. Starfleet has a strict policy against moonlighting.

"Please don't put me on restriction, sir," he pleads in a low voice, clasping his hands together.

"Restriction? For what?" I answer him, pretending that I don't know what he means. "I got into far worse trouble than underage clubbing when I was 17."

He smiles in relief and relaxes. "But we're not the only Starfleet personnel who come here," I continue. "There's nothing I can do if someone else recognizes you and reports you."

"Yes, sir," he nods.

"Okay. How long are you working tonight?"

"Until two am."

"Fine. At two am, I will be back down here to escort you out. You serve under my command, and that makes you my responsibility. If you cause any trouble, it reflects back on me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," he snaps to attention.

I nod and end the conversation. He returns to DJ'ing and I retrace my path across the floor.

I check out the women dancing as I wind my way back, searching for just the right one, when the song changes. Even through the remixing, I recognize it: "Irresistible" by Gia, _her_ favorite pop singer. Suddenly, my heart hurts, and I lose my appetite.

Relaxing on a couch upstairs, I regard the dancers below without really paying attention. Several women try to catch my eye, but they drift away when I don't acknowledge them. All I can think about is her. She's not here, so I attempt to squelch the disappointment with a Saurian brandy.

The night continues, and I have a few more drinks. One song bleeds into the next as the fractal patterns on the h-panels transform in synch to the shifting melodies. Mathematics on display, set to music. The dancers below are long lost in a collective trance, their bodies blending together into a single mass that ebbs and flows with its own rhythmic pattern. Hypnotized, I file the kaleidoscopic images away in my memory, like I do with everything I see.

McCoy taps me on the shoulder, and I realize that the evening is waning.

"My new lady friend and I are leaving to find somewhere more private. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. I'm leaving soon, too," I wave him off and glance at my watch. Almost two.

Chekov leaves the stage and disappears into the chill room with Val. I move to join him, and a pretty young brunette jostles me as she, too, moves towards the room, staring intensely at Chekov.

"Oh, excuse me," she apologizes, uncertainty coloring her tone. Her English has an accent to it. Eastern European, Slavic, maybe Russian?

"It's okay," I reply.

I step aside to let her pass, but she backs away instead. With one last, sad look at Chekov, she darts towards the door. I scratch my head and enter the chill room. Probably just a groupie.

"… to your usual account," I overhear Val tell him as he drinks from a glass. He notices my arrival and stops.

"This is a fruit juice," he sputters.

"Oh no, I don't serve alcohol to minors," Val explains, wagging a finger. "I'll lose my liquor license."

"I'm not here to baby-sit you. Are you ready to go?" I ask him.

He nods and gulps down the remainder of the juice.

"Oh, by the way, there was a girl here just a moment ago trying to see you. She sounded Russian. She just ran out the door," I tell him, indicating the exit with my thumb.

"Irina," he whispers, as his face collapses into shock and dismay. With more force than I believed his slender body could hold, he shoves me aside and rushes to the street. I follow him outside and discover him standing near the curb, running his hand through his blond curls and cursing in Russian.

"Ensign, who was she?"

"Just a girl I used to date," he sighs forlornly. "Irina Galliulin. She was attending the Academy until I left on the Enterprise for the mission to save Vulcan. When I returned, she was gone. No note, no explanation, no sign of her anywhere. Until tonight." He throws up his arms in broken-hearted exasperation to which I can relate.

I turn towards the row of motorcycles parked along the curb. He falls into step beside me, and it occurs to me that I should take this opportunity to learn more about my junior officer.

"So, are you headed home?" I question as we reach the bikes.

"Yes."

"Which neighborhood?"

"Little Russia, in the Richmond District."

The neighborhood of Richmond is located just south of the Presidio and Starfleet Headquarters.

"Wait, you're still a cadet at the Academy, right? Shouldn't you be living on campus?"

"Oh, I graduated 2 years ago. I was in a special accelerated program."

His last comment stops me in my tracks. Grabbing his shoulder, I force him to a halt.

"I wasn't aware of a special program," I say incredulously.

"Yes. The recruiters contacted my family after reviewing my academic records and thought I would make a good candidate for early training."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"And your parents let you move all the way from Russia to San Francisco by yourself?" I ask in shock.

"Yes! They were more than happy to send me here," he replies, smiling widely.

_That's too young! _I think. Chekov beams with pride at this, but I find the revelation unnerving. No one else I know of was recruited this way. I was 24 when I entered the Academy, and even with the recommendations of Admiral Pike and Minister Kaplan, I still had to jump through hoops to get admitted.

"How many students were in this program?" I ask.

"Just me, and a few others to begin with. I was the youngest student. Now there are more," he finishes, his voice trailing off.

The tone of his voice has changed 180 degrees from just a few moments ago. The eagerness that was just there has dissipated. I start to press him for more information, but any more questioning now feels like an intrusion into his privacy. Instead, I make a mental note to reread his personnel file at the first opportunity.

"I'd give you a lift home, but I only have one helmet." I point to my bike parked amongst the others. Chekov's eyes widen in admiration.

"That's okay," he says. "It's just a few stops away on the BART."

"That was some really good DJ'ing you did back there," I complement him before he leaves.

"Thank you, sir."

"Mixing on the wing like that must be extremely difficult. How do you do it so easily?"

He shrugs out of modesty. "I can see the music in my head, and how the tracks should fit together. It's like with numbers, when I write formulas, or calculate navigational courses, I can see how the numbers and variables relate to each other. You see, music and math, they are the same," he explains, waving his hands enthusiastically.

"Yes, they are similar," I agree. "But still, you really have to know the music before you mix it."

"Well, I listen to a lot of music in my spare time," he replies, laughing. "When I first came to San Francisco, to the Academy, there was no one else my age to spend time with, so I turned to music. As I listened to the songs, I started dissecting them in my mind. Eventually, I experimented with mixing boards and sequencers, and made my own mix files."

"How did you get a job at Reverie?"

He smirks. "I sneaked off campus at night, searching for things to do, and other kids to talk to. Sometimes I would bring my files with me and sneak into clubs. When the bouncers would catch me, they would throw me out, but I got lucky at Reverie. When Val caught me, I begged her to listen to my remixes. She liked what she heard and gave me a tryout session. I was a hit, so now she hires me whenever I'm available.

"I can use the extra money," he goes on. "I'm just an ensign, O-1 pay grade, so I don't earn very much from my Starfleet salary."

True. I'm an O-6. There's a large difference between our salaries.

"Ever think of going pro?" I ask.

"No, it's fun, but I've never considered a career at it. I've always wanted to join the space service, to defend Earth and the Federation, and when Starfleet asked me to apply, I said yes, right away."

_So he wanted to join Starfleet, but he's withholding something,_ I think.

At the pause in the conversation, Chekov bids me farewell. "Well, it's been a long evening. Good night, sir."

"G'night. Make sure you get plenty of sleep. I need my crewmembers in top condition when they report for duty."

"Yes, sir," he answers, waving as he disappears into the rail station.

Chekov reminds me of myself when I was a teenager. Because of that, and because he's a member of my crew, I feel protective of him, like the way my older brother, Sam, watched out for me as I was growing up.

I get on my bike and pull away from the curb, but home is not my destination. Instead, I head north first.

I take a leisurely route, around Golden Gate Park, through the Presidio, and onto Golden Gate Bridge. The night wind rushes across my body as I speed across the strait. It's exhilarating. There's almost no traffic this early in the morning, so I stop in the middle for a breather.

There was a painting in an art museum that I saw once called "The Gates of Night." It was a nightscape of the Golden Gate Bridge bathed in the light of a full moon, much like it is tonight. I remember imagining myself from the artist's perspective, standing at the base of Golden Gate Point, staring up at the towering engineering marvel above me.

Letting my thoughts meander, my eyes trace the coastline of the Bay to my right. The lights of the suburbs sparkle like the stars in the sky.

Out of sight to the northeast lies Sausalito, where she lives. The highway ahead of me curves away into the hillside, beckoning me to follow it. I lean forward, tightening my grip on the handlebars. It would take just a few minutes to get there… but no. I don't know how she would respond to my arrival on her doorstep at this time of the night, unannounced.

To my left out to sea, darkness stretches away to the horizon. No stars. A bleak contrast to the life and light shining on my other side. A front must be coming in. The breeze picks up, bringing the scent of saltwater and rain to my nostrils. Time to go home.

I drive my bike to the end of the bridge and make a U-turn. The first tendrils of fog chase the wheels as I ride back across. The foghorn blows a warning.

Back home, I stand by the windows in silence, in darkness, watching the fog I outraced curl its way through the Bay area. The bridge is obscured now. It's three am, but I'm not tired enough to sleep.

Alone like this, I can drop the mask I wear for the others who depend on me: my family, my superiors, my crew. I'm nervous about tomorrow. Am I really ready for command? Somebody must think so. They gave it to me after all. But considering all the events that transpired over the past several months….

No. I've traveled in space before. I've been in danger before. I've made snap decisions involving others, some of it before I ever joined Starfleet. I faced Kodos the Executioner, murderous governor of Tarsus IV, when I was a teenager. I can do this.

I should take the advice I gave Chekov, so I head for bed. Before I lie down, I place one more thing in my packed bag. It's the fourth thing I bought with my bonus, a gift that was rejected. Her reasoning was sound for saying no. I had to agree with her, although it does leave the door open for her to change her mind down the road. This possibility gives me hope, so I'm taking it with me as a reminder of what I'm working towards.

And with that, I collapse on top of the covers fully clothed and fall right to sleep.

I awake the next morning to the dull gray light of a bay shrouded in fog. I can see the top of the old Transamerica building in the City and very little else.

I rouse myself with a hot shower and a change of clothes, and I'm off to meet Bones at the Oakland shuttle port.

I'm barely through the security checkpoint when he yanks me aside.

"Where have you been? Our shuttle leaves in a half hour," he chastises me.

"I overslept. And I need food. Where's the food court?"

Bleary-eyed, I drag him over to the nearest kiosk and order eggs with a side of bacon and orange juice.

"Terrible weather. I'll never get used to it. One minute it's sunny, the next it's cloudy and 20 degrees colder," he complains. "It actually makes me miss the heat and humidity back home. If I hadn't had to move here for training - "

"Well, we're leaving it, so you won't have to see it anymore," I grumble.

He sips his coffee and eyes me over the rim. "Who was the lady who kept you up and made you late this morning? And put you in such a foul mood?"

"No one. I was alone last night."

He gapes at me. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it. I left the club after you, went for a ride, and went home. Alone."

"That's not like you." He pauses. "Is this about her? Did you drag me to that club last night in the hopes that you would get to see her one last time before we ship out?" His patience with me has worn thin. "I warned you about her. I told you she wouldn't behave the way you wanted her to."

My own temper flares in response. Before I can answer, an attendant announces our flight over the loudspeaker. "Attention, Starfleet personnel. Shuttle flight 1627 departing for Spacedock is now boarding. Please make your way to Gate A7."

"That's our cue," I say, shoveling the rest of my food into my mouth. As we hurry to the gate, a passenger coming the opposite way collides with my shoulder, knocking me off balance.

"Hey, watch it!" I yell.

"Sorry," he mouths and rushes off.

And then the memory that had eluded me yesterday returns. I remember where I saw the man at the café, and how I came to meet him….


	3. Criminal

When I Ruled the World

Chapter 2 Criminal

By Chana Goldberg

_Six months prior..._

I stood in front of the helm control on the Enterprise's bridge observing the cracks in the view screen as the we drifted away lazily from the black hole that had just swallowed our enemy, the Romulan mining ship Narada. The jagged paths crisscrossing the synthetic diamond pane had been caused by the pull of the black hole's gravity on the ship, and they continued beyond it, slicing through the bridge's walls and ceiling as if the singularity itself had stretched forth and sunk its claws into the hull, refusing to let go of its prey. A hairbreadth's shift in the fragments, and the bridge would depressurize, killing us all.

_Thank god it held, _I thought. _I didn't come out here to die._

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space," Sulu quipped from the conn behind me. I turned and looked at him quizzically and saw Chekov at navigation do the same.

"Well, we are," he said to us both, shrugging.

I returned my gaze to the view screen, chuckling at the tension-breaker, feeling the adrenaline rush of the past day fade. On my orders, the bridge crew hurried to stabilize the ship and transfer control to the auxiliary bridge. We had no warp engines to travel faster than light since we jettisoned the core and detonated it to save ourselves from being crushed alongside the Narada. Impulse engines were online, but it would take years to reach the nearest Starbase at sub-light speed. So we sat and waited for another starship to deliver new Dilithium crystals for refueling.

As my eyes traced the fine lines across the clear material, meandering from one broken shard to the next, the ship began to tilt to the right. Confused, I looked to my left, and saw the floor racing towards me. It was then I realized that the ship wasn't tilting; I was falling over. Dizziness washed over me, my vision blurred, and nausea cramped my stomach. My shoulder collided with the deck, sending a shooting pain through the rest of my body. Voices babbled hysterically in the background as I lay there, hearing Spock give orders.

"Dr. McCoy to the bridge, we have a medical emergency," he spoke into the intercom.

He knelt down beside me and reached for my head. At the sight of his palm approaching my face, I panicked. Flashbacks of an older Spock laying his hand on me, mind-melding with me, the sadness of it-

"Don't you touch me!" I snarled, smacking his hand away. An almost imperceptible shift flickered across his normally placid expression. Through my hazy vision, it seemed he was taken aback.

The turbolift doors on the other side of the bridge opened and shut with a hiss. "Where's the emergency?" I heard McCoy ask as booted feet rushed across the floor.

"Here, doctor." Spock gestured at me. He moved aside so McCoy could kneel next to me while a blonde nurse in blue scrubs with fair skin and friendly eyes positioned herself beside him. Together, they rolled me onto my back. Sulu and Chekov peered at us over the edge of the console.

"How are you feeling, Jim?" McCoy waved his medical tricorder over my body. The world spun as I turned towards his voice.

"It was a long way down," I groaned.

"Well, that answers my question," he said sarcastically.

My view of the spinning world split in half as double vision overtook me. I shakily held up two fingers at double-Spock. "There are two of you," I told him. All he did was raise an eyebrow.

"Doctor, has Cadet Kirk brought a contagion aboard from the Narada?" Spock inquired. "The rapid onset of symptoms and the severity thereof indicate that this is the most likely possibility. If the illness spreads-"

"Um, I'm not sure yet what's making him sick," McCoy stalled, shifting uncomfortably. "We need to move him to Sick Bay first. I'll need to run more thorough tests to be certain of anything.

"Nurse Chapel, help me stabilize him," he instructed the woman assisting him.

"Yes, doctor," she replied, and placed both of her hands gently on either side of my face. Looking into my eyes, she told me soothingly, "You're going to be just fine."

I met her gaze as best I could from my upside-down vantage point and smiled, thinking, _What a lovely woman._ Then a hypospray injection blew all my cares away….

I woke up groggy on a bed in Sick Bay a few hours later, feeling much improved. The nurse from the bridge hurried to my side as soon as I stirred and took my vital signs.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Better." My dry tongue clumsily formed the words. "And who might you be?"

"My name is Christine Chapel. I'm the Chief Nurse here in Sick Bay. Did you know you were ill when Starfleet assigned you to the ship for this mission?" Her tone held genuine concern.

"Uh no, it hit me suddenly," I lied, fidgeting as I tried to sit up. How would she react if she knew it was the doctor who had made me ill to get me on board a ship I wasn't supposed to be on in the first place?

"May I have a glass of water?"

She handed a cup to me and I drank what I could to wet my parched throat. Gazing blearily around Sick Bay, I spotted Captain Pike at the other end of the room, a grimace of pain on his face as he lay medicated on his bed.

"How is the captain?" I asked her.

She studied me through slitted eyelids before speaking. "Dr. McCoy has stabilized him, but we won't know for sure what his final prognosis will be until we get him to a hospital where surgeons can fully operate on him. Even though our Sick Bay is state of the art, its facilities are limited." Her face fell as she turned towards him. "The torture he must have suffered at the Romulans' hands..."

The doors to Sick Bay swished open as McCoy strode in followed by Spock talking intently with a third man I didn't recognize. He was tall, with a medium skin tone and a closely shaven head. His gray eyes swept the room, landing on me briefly before swinging to Pike. Bones shot me a quick glance before leading the group over to Pike's bed.

"Nurse," I nodded towards the stranger, "do you know who that man is?"

"He's Captain Anthony Warren of the USS Aries. His ship answered our distress call right after you were brought here. Members of his crew are helping ours repair the Enterprise."

"The Aries is part of Starfleet's Intelligence Division," I gulped. A chill rippled down my spine at the thought of one of Starfleet's elite spies in the same room as me. The officers of Starfleet Intelligence are a closed-knit community who keep to themselves. They know much about what goes on in the fleet, but everything they do themselves is confidential. _Warren's presence here could cause trouble for Bones and me if he discovers what we've done, _I thought.

The trio finished their conversation and retreated to the door. Spock and Warren exited without acknowledging me, but McCoy diverted to my side.

"Bones, what's going on?"

He placed both hands on the edge of my bed and hung his head, sighing. "Well, Jim, Pike needs to get to a hospital at the nearest Starbase as soon as possible. Even after Mr. Scott replaces the warp core and the bridge view screen, we still won't be able to travel at top speed due to structural damage. The Aries can. Pike will be transferred to that ship and the Aries will depart as soon as the major repairs are finished. We've been ordered to return to Earth as soon as we're ready."

"Wait, I'm in charge here. I'm still the acting captain. Shouldn't I have been consulted about this?" I retorted angrily.

Bones and Chapel exchanged dismayed looks. Christine excused herself to tend to other patients, leaving the doctor to deliver the bad news.

"Jim, you know perfectly well how the chain of command works. Warren is an actual captain. That makes him the ranking officer here right now. The emergency conditions that put you in charge have been lifted. Spock will be commanding the Enterprise on our return. Sorry, Jim, you're back to being a cadet." He slapped me on the shoulder in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but instead felt depressing.

"Warren knows everything that's happened, then?" My heart sank at the thought.

"Not quite everything. You need to stay here in Sick Bay for monitoring until we reach Earth. I know how much you hate hospitals, but Warren wanted to throw you in the brig. I figured this was preferable," he grinned, a bit of the sparkle returning to his eyes.

"You figured correctly." I settled back against the pillow, preferring its softness to a cold hard bunk in the brig.

"Listen," McCoy began after a pause, fiddling with the bedsheet. "I'm sorry for this, for deliberately making you sick. It was a terrible idea. I don't know what I was thinking... only it didn't feel right to leave you behind."

"Bones, it's okay. I'm alright now," I reassured him.

"No, you don't understand. The Hippocratic Oath states 'first do no harm.' I take that oath very seriously. I violated it by what I did to you." He frowned, shaking his head anxiously. "I've never done anything like this before. I could lose my medical license for this."

It hurt me to know that my friend was in pain and that I was the cause of it. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better.

A flash of red at the entrance caught my attention. Nyota Uhura, my classmate and a communications engineer, stood there, visibly concerned about me but uncertain whether to approach. Something about her red work uniform tugged at my memory as she stepped forward… red uniform… red hair….

"Gaila!' I cried out, startling everyone in the room. Uhura gasped and put her hand to her mouth, horrified. McCoy blanched. All of my nerves twisted into knots when I realized that my beautiful Orion girlfriend was missing.

I reached out and grabbed Uhura's arm as she reached my side. "Where is she? What's happened to her?"

Her lips trembled. "I don't know what happened to her, Jim. The last time I saw her was at the Academy shuttle port. She was assigned to another ship-"

"Which one?" I pushed her for an answer. Gaila could have been on any one of the starships destroyed by the Narada at Vulcan.

"I don't remember! There was so much going on. I focused on my own job and forgot about her." Her eyes welled up with tears so I let go. Gaila was her best friend. She felt the loss as deeply as I did.

I laid back, closing my eyes in anguish. With her lustrous green skin and sunset red curls, Gaila had caught my eye during Plebe Summer before our first year at school began. I had bided my time, dating other girls while she worked her way through every other guy on campus. She finally agreed to go out with me at the beginning of our third year, and we had been thoroughly enjoying our affair... until I betrayed her.

McCoy disappeared into his office, returning a few minutes later, brisk and hopeful. "I've sent a query to Admiral Sarah April at Starfleet Medical asking for her whereabouts. As her foster mother, she'll know where Gaila is, but we may beat the message to Earth before it has a chance to travel through subspace," he said, just as medical techs arrived to prep Pike for transport to the Aries. As he left our group to give instructions to them, an idea coalesced in my mind.

"Uhura, we don't have to wait until we get back to Earth to find out what happened to Gaila," I told her.

"Hmm?" she sniffed, wiping away a tear.

"The Aries is a class of ship designed for intelligence purposes only. It's not meant to participate in battles."

Uhura blinked in confusion.

"Its most important function is to transmit information from one part of the galaxy to another as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the designers sacrificed part of its weapons systems so they could squeeze in more powerful communications equipment," I continued.

Her eyes brightened with understanding as her own communications training kicked in. "It has signal boosters to send subspace radio transmissions twice as fast as the Enterprise can."

"Exactly. We can ask the Aries to transmit McCoy's query to Central Command on Earth for us. Centcom can transmit their response to the Aries who will bounce it on to us. If all goes well, we should have our answer before we reach home."

**"**Wait a minute," Uhura cautioned. "The three of us are in no position to make demands of the Aries. Especially you. Why should they prioritize a personal request at a busy time like this?"

"You're right," I lowered my eyes in mock humility. "_We_ can't make the request. But your boyfriend can."

"Don't mention that out loud!" she hissed, her sadness morphing to cold fury at the merest hint of my knowledge of her illicit affair with Spock. If our superiors found out that Uhura, a cadet, was dating an officer five ranks above her, they both would be in serious trouble.

"Relax, I'm not trying to blackmail you. I'm just saying that if you ask him to do it, he will. Since he's in charge now, Warren will most likely accept the request from him. That's all."

She calmed down, mulling the idea in her mind. "Alright, I'll ask him. I'll let you and the doctor know what they say."

Uhura dabbed the last vestiges of tears from her eyes with a tissue from the bedstand. "If you're fine, then I'm going to go take care of it now," she said, patting my hand comfortingly.

"I am. Thank you."

She smiled and left Sick Bay. McCoy was handing the completed authorization files to the med techs who had finished prepping Pike for transfer when I motioned him to my bed.

"Bones, the day before my last attempt at the Kobayashi Maru test, I spent the afternoon with Gaila," I confided. "She told me she loved me."

"And what did you say?"

"'That's weird,'" I squirmed on the bed.

"What! Dammit, Jim, of all the stupid things to say! You chased that girl for two years, you finally caught her, and then you tell her she's weird?" He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Of course I regret it now, but she caught me by surprise. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind."

Orion women are known for their seductive natures and sexual prowess. They're also not monogamous. I never expected her to express any feelings towards me, but now that she had, I prayed she was still alive so that I could tell her how I felt, and to tell her that I was sorry.

"When we get back to Earth, you find her and correct that mistake," McCoy reprimanded, pointing an authoritative finger at me.

Several hours later, after the bridge had been evacuated to install the new view screen, and the new Dilithium crystals had been inserted into the intermix chambers, we departed for home. Uhura delivered a message to Sick Bay stating that our plan had worked. Both Spock and Warren had been receptive to her request for information. The Aries had transmitted the query and would relay the response to us as soon as they received it. I settled in to recuperate, wondering about the trouble I would be facing when I returned to the Academy, if Captain Pike would recover from his ordeal, or if I would ever hear Gaila's high-pitched giggle again.

We had been underway for a few hours when a pair of hands shook me from slumber. Uhura leaned over me with the happiest expression I've seen on her face since she beat me for the top class ranking for the first time two semesters ago. McCoy beamed from behind her.

"The Aries has responded already with the best news! Gaila is alive!" Uhura exclaimed, her exuberance cutting through the darkness of the recent past.

"That's fantastic!" I exclaimed. "And fast. How did they find her so quickly?"

"She never left the dock, apparently. The message didn't give any details, but I'm sure she'll tell us everything. She'll be waiting when we berth."

Uhura checked the chronometer on the med screen above my bed. "My break is over. I've got to go back to my station now." She waved giddily and left Sick Bay.

The joyous news banished any further sleep from my body. "Finally, something good has happened," I remarked to Bones.

"True. Now rest up. You're not fully healed yet. And I'm sure you'll want to conserve energy for her," he said with a wicked grin. I laughed.

After half a day's travel, we arrived at Spacedock in orbit around Earth. I was mostly recovered from my illness and eager to find Gaila. Rushing down the ship's gangway, I passed the weary faces of a crew happy to be home and reunited with loved ones. They poured onto the concourse, merging with the crowd pushing forward to greet them.

I scanned the rows of onlookers, searching for the one trait that would distinguish her from the rest. There in the throng was a flash of red. My heart skipped a beat. Red curls bounced forward, and a leaf-green arm emerged from between the bodies, followed by the smiling face of the person I most wanted to see. She extended her hand towards me and I grabbed hold of it.

"Gaila!" I cried out, overjoyed to touch her again. "I'd thought you were dead."

"Jim!" She threw herself against my chest as I enclosed her in my arms.

I whispered in her ear my secret name for her: "My scarlet flower."

She sighed, pressing closer. She ran her long nails down my chest, signaling her desire for affection.

"Gaila, you're alive!" Uhura shrieked, sprinting up to us. She pried Gaila out of my embrace and into her own.

"Yes, Nyota, I'm alright," she reassured her with a hug.

"We were worried about you. What happened?" Bones asked gleefully as he walked up beside me.

"I was pulled off the ship I was assigned to at the last minute because the captain thought I would be too distracting to the crew. The Personnel Office gave me a position here on Spacedock in the CIC, and I've been here ever since." She shot me a look of annoyance and hurt that I understood immediately. Orion women are notorious for their promiscuity, and their presence alone can arouse unsavory attention from men. Not only that, but as one of a handful of Orions on Earth, she bears the burden of her entire species' reputation as thieving pirates, and she's been persecuted for it every day at the Academy.

The two women gossiped as we headed across the concourse. I tuned them out until Gaila mentioned a tidbit that caught my interest.

"Did you hear about the changes at Central Command?"

"No," Uhura answered for us.

"Well, after Vulcan was reported destroyed, the public went into shock. The Federation Council was furious, and still is, and blamed Starfleet for screwing up, especially after we failed to prevent the attacker from breaching our defenses. The entire top brass immediately resigned in disgrace. The Council didn't waste any time in promoting a new Command, so Robert's been appointed to vice admiral of Operations!" She grabbed my arm and bounced enthusiastically.

"That's great news!" I congratulated her. Formerly Rear Admiral Robert April had served as the Enterprise's first captain until 11 years ago. It was there he had met his wife Sarah, the Enterprise's first chief medical officer who now currently serves as vice admiral of Starfleet's Medical division. The two of them had rescued Gaila from a life of forced prostitution when she was a teenager, and had brought her back to Earth as their foster daughter 4 years ago. They're very well liked and admired by the entire service.

"Yes! He and Sarah make an excellent team already. Having them in charge will be great for the service," McCoy clapped his hands happily.

"Wait, then who's the new fleet admiral?" Uhura asked warily, interrupting our celebration.

"Villarosa," Gaila bit her lip.

Uhura, McCoy, and I stared at each other in shock as our excitement melted away. Mariana Villarosa has a long, distinguished, and decorated career in Starfleet. She cemented her reputation as a skilled commander when she led the ground assault on Donatu V in the Federation-Klingon Cold War 20 years ago. She had been a rear admiral and deputy director of Security until now. She's known for running a tight organization with little tolerance for deviance or rule-breaking.

"Of all the admirals to choose…." Uhura grimaced.

"The Council means business. They must not've liked the way Starfleet's been run up 'til now," McCoy raised his eyebrows at me.

"She's going to crack down on all of us" I remarked.

We waited in silence for a turbo lift to the shuttle docks on the lower concourse. I leaned forward and whispered to Gaila, "Meet me at our usual place after lights out when we reach planetside. I need you."

She nodded her head quickly. I inhaled her perfume as we boarded the lift, an apple-scented fragrance that she preferred, and admired how her body filled out her blue uniform. Curfew wasn't going to come fast enough.

The shuttle ride back to San Francisco was uneventful, and weparted ways at the Academy shuttleport later that evening. Since he hadn't been a student for two years, McCoy bid us goodbye and left for his home in the neighborhood of Forest Hill. The rest of us who were still cadets were ordered to remain in our barracks until reveille. As soon as curfew passed and I felt the coast was clear, I left my room and headed for the secret meeting place that Gaila and I shared.

A cool spring breeze stirred the trees near the school's martial arts practice hall as I crept to the entrance, avoiding the eyes of the cadets on watch. As captain of the judo team, I had a security pass to the facility. I was about to scan my passkey to unlock the doors when a rustling in the bushes caught my attention. Frozen and alert, I swiveled my head slowly to investigate. An indistinct figure slunk among the shrubs, growing more human-shaped as it approached. Before the light of the security lamp could reveal its true form, it leaped towards me from the shadows of the hedge, wrapping itself around my body. I brought up my hands to throw off the attacker, but the blows I expected never came. Instead, soft lips covered my face in kisses.

"Gaila," I crushed her to me.

"Unlock the door, get inside and take your clothes off," she ordered, her eyes smoldering and her breathing heavy.

"You don't have to ask twice!"

"I'm not asking." She broke free of my hold and sashayed into the hall.

Following Gaila into the dressing room, I took off my uniform jacket and threw it on the floor, and then reached for hers, but she pressed her palm suddenly against my chest, halting me in mid-movement.

"You stole my passkey to the computer lab so you could hack into the Kobayashi Maru test program. Why did you sneak behind my back?" she demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips.

I winced. I had wanted to discuss this with her later, much later, when she would be in a more accommodating mood. "I was hoping this would never surface, but now that it has, I'm really sorry. I never intended to hurt you," I apologized.

"If lab access is all you wanted from me, why didn't you just ask for it?" she huffed.

"It isn't all I want from you, and would you have given it to me?"

"Yes," she answered sincerely, her face softening.

"That's why I couldn't ask for your help. I knew it would mean expulsion if I got caught. I was willing to take that risk for myself, but I wasn't willing to risk your future, too. All of the blame will fall on me for stealing the key from you. You get off with a slap on the wrist for being careless. I know how much serving in Starfleet means to you." I reached for her, willing her to understand.

"It's my ticket home to Orion, to my mother and sisters. The new skills I take back with me will help protect my family." She turned away, lost in thought.

"Not to mention your foster family would be upset if you were thrown out of school," I added.

She avoided my eyes, the silence stretching between us as she considered what I had said.

"Was it so important for you to win?" She scrutinized me over her shoulder.

"I honestly thought so at the time."

She smiled alluringly, peering at me from beneath her lashes. "I like a man who goes after what he wants."

Wow, I had been hoping she would forgive me, but it never occurred to me that the situation would turn her on. Then again, Orions are natural opportunists who value the trait in others. Relief mixed with returning desire as I reached for her again.

"Then, you're not angry?"

"Not anymore. Your explanation satisfies me. But you're not out of the woods yet. You still have to defend yourself before the Brigade Honor Committee."

I nodded worriedly. Gaila stroked her fingers gently down my cheek and tilted my face to hers.

"Let me take your mind off it for a while.

"Shall I dance for you?" she purred, tossing her jacket aside. "Gia performed a new dance routine during a concert last week. I've been aching to show it to you. Would you like to see it?"

"Y-yes, absolutely, I would l-love to see it," I stuttered, trying not to drool. Orion women are renowned throughout the galaxy for their seductive dancing skills. It's part of their mating ritual.

She began to twirl her hips, recreating the routine from memory. She untied her loose bun and let her curls fall free around her shoulders. I settled onto a bench, stripping off my clothes while drinking in the sight of her undulating movements. She tossed her hair, angling her neck to show off the nape as she arched her back. She extended her arms over head, rolling them forward to reveal her inner wrists, then spun on the balls of her feet, finishing the move with a cock of her hip that exposed her inner thighs. Fascinated by every twist and turn of her body, I drummed up the courage to ask her how she really felt about me.

"Gaila, several days ago, when we were last in bed together, you said you loved me."

"Mm-hmmm," she replied, stepping out of her skirt.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mm-hmmm! No one else satisfies me the way you do. Now enough talking."

She yanked me off the bench and laughed as we fell onto the floor. She straddled my waist while I laid on my back, entwining my fingers through her scarlet curls. She leaned down to kiss me, brushing her breasts against my torso. I forgot all about the past few days and lost myself in the presence of her.

"Wake up, Gaila, and get dressed. We have to get back to the barracks before someone notices we're gone." I gently nudged her. She mumbled in her native language and tried to roll over. Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I flipped open my communicator to check the time: 0434.

"We'll miss morning muster," I insisted.

She blinked sleepily at me as I pulled her upright. After collecting our clothes and dressing, we stole back across the campus, hand in hand, dodging the night watch until we reached the barracks, kissing her one last time outside the entrance to the women's quarters. Back in my own room, I tiptoed past my bunkmate, Lee Kelso, and crawled into bed just in time to pretend that I was getting up. Gaila and I had done this many times before, together and separately, so getting caught wasn't an issue.

At 0700 sharp, all the cadets assembled on the parade ground for roll call and the delivery of the day's schedule. There would be no classes while we waited to be debriefed on the mission to Vulcan. After we were dismissed, Lieutenant Commander Ben Finney, one of the presiding brigade officers, signaled for my attention.

"Cadet Kirk," he called to me, signalling from the edge of the green.

"Yes, sir," I strode over immediately to stand before him.

Tall, with blue eyes and reddish-brown hair going gray at the temples, Finney was one of my first instructors here. We had formed a close teacher-student relationship that eventually developed into a friendship. He and his wife even named their daughter Jamie after me and asked me to be her godfather.

"Please come with me," he ordered, turning abruptly towards the Administration building. He neither waited for me nor checked to see if I was behind him. His cold formality warned me that something was amiss. I followed him up to the commandant's office on the top floor where the pretty young female yeoman acting as the secretary ushered us into the inner office.

The Commandant of Cadets, Captain Emil Lejeune, was seated at his desk reading his computer screen when we entered. A broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair, it was his responsibility to oversee the military and professional training of all the cadets. He read silently for a few more minutes before acknowledging our presence. Like with Finney, there were no warm greetings as there had been previously when I reported to him as the cadet brigade commander, only a grave unwelcoming expression. My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized what this meeting was most likely about. It took all of my willpower to suppress the icy knot of fear in my gut that I had undone everything I had worked for.

"Cadet Kirk," he began sternly, "when we appointed you commander of the Academy Brigade, it was because you demonstrated exceptional leadership and academic skills. You showed initiative, drive, and a strong personal moral code. The other cadets looked up to you.

"Now, I've received reports that you stowed away aboard the Enterprise during yesterday's mission. I've called you here to inform you that an investigation into the events on board is underway, and you will most likely face charges of trespassing, disobeying orders, assault of a superior officer, resisting arrest on two counts, insubordination, mutiny, conduct unbecoming of a cadet, and other infractions in violation of the SCMJ."

"Will I be facing a court martial, sir?" I tried to steady my voice.

"That is a very likely possibility."

My thoughts scattered to the far corners of my mind as the full consequences of my actions hit me. I couldn't speak.

"What happens now, sir?" was all I could manage to get out.

"What happens now is that you will be placed on restriction until the arraignment and preliminary hearings begin. You will be allowed to continue classes, but you will have no leave or special privileges. You will perform extra watches and extra drills. You will also devote time to teaching judo and hand-to-hand combat to the underclassmen. You will be suspended as brigade commander until these matters are settled."

I swallowed, trying to stay composed. "Yes, sir."

"In addition, cadet, you are still facing charges of cheating here at school. That alone is grounds for expulsion, but academic matters are not within my purview."

Lejeune relaxed slightly. "I'm disappointed in you, Cadet Kirk. You showed such promise. You're dismissed."

With that, Lt. Comm. Finney showed me out.

"Oh, and one more thing, cadet," Lejeune said as we reached the door. "The midnight rendezvous with your girlfriend? I know about them. They stop too."

"Yes, sir," I replied one final time. As I walked somberly down the hall, all of the things the commandant had said swirled in my head, a roiling black hole that sucked in all my feelings and crushed them into oblivion.

The force of another body barreling into me snapped me out of my despair.

"Excuse me," I said reflexively, looking into the face of the person I had collided with. Capt. Warren's eyes glared frigidly back into mine, and without an apology, he strode toward the commandant's office.

"Asshole," I muttered, heading to the exit.

One thing that is important to note before reading this chapter: the Star Trek 2009 parts of this story are based on the theatrical release of the film. Any deleted scenes from the DVD/Blue-Ray or any director's cut that might be out there have been ignored. A few familiar names from TOS are introduced here plus some new characters I added to fill in some holes. Enjoy!


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